Edoc'sil
by bookworm065
Summary: Eragon has been sent on a mission to rescue an unknown object from Galbatorix's clutches, when he makes a discovery that could change the future of Alagaesia. He and Arya finish their adventures, fulfilling the prophecy. Set after Brisingr.
1. Chapter 1

It was near. The scent of the creature tickled his nostrils, making his stay in the punishing mountains worthwhile. Exhausted, he trekked along the rough terrain of the Spine. Years of intense training had made Eragon extremely fit, but he had never liked the cold.

Sadly, he thought of what his life used to be. The warm fireplace, soft bed, good food, friendly faces of his uncle and brother- he remembered it all. Before his life was changed, he always came home to a welcoming family after a hunt in the Spine, even if it was unsuccessful. He had people he could count on.

But that was not true anymore. Now his uncle was dead, and his brother a hardened war machine that he hardly knew. And today, instead of deer, he was on the hunt for an unknown creature that held information. Important, life-giving information.

Deftly and as swiftly and quietly as a cat, Eragon climbed the nearest tree. He could see the village from his vantage point. It was easy to imagine himself going down to the village, welcomed and accepted by the people there, but he knew it was impossible. There were no people there. It was deserted. Galbatorix had crushed any hope he ever had of going home again.

As if of its own accord, Eragon's head turned back toward the dark, forbidding woods.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a little creature stumbled past his tree. It was injured in many places, but still managed to move without making a sound. It moved like it was being hunted. _Well, _thought Eragon, _I suppose I am hunting it._ The poor creature was so pathetic that Eragon saw no threat in going down to meet it. He slipped down the tree and met its sad eyes.

"Ayah!" The creature cried. When on ground level, Eragon saw that it was a dwarf. "Get away! I have no business with you!" The dwarf spoke in a low, frightened voice, as if he perceived Eragon as a threat to his life.

Slowly, without making any movements that might startle the wretched creature, Eragon lifted his hand so the gedwey ignasia showed clearly. Quietly he said, "I do not wish to harm you."

"Thank the gods!" The dwarf fell to his knees in relief. He had a hardened, round face, a receding hairline, and torn, dirty clothing. "I have been hunted for weeks by some mysterious being, scared to the very end. Perhaps you may help me, Argetlam."

Eragon stepped forward cautiously. It could be a threat, a trap. All of Brom's old lessons repeated themselves in his mind. Every possible scenario passed before his eyes, and his mind warned him to be cautious. His instinct, rather than his mind, took over. He stepped forward, and said, "Waise heill!"

The dwarf's mouth dropped open as his injuries began to heal themselves. With frightened, hunted eyes he looked up at Eragon and asked, "What devilry is this?"

"It is the power of the dragon rider," Eragon replied. "I shall serve you until you reach your goal."

The dwarf almost smiled as he looked up at the sky. He cried a loud, wild cry. It echoed between the mountains and the trees. It sounded like the screech of an eagle, the hammer of an anvil, and the beat of Saphira's wings. It sounded like the heart of Alagaesia.

When the dwarf fell silent, and Eragon chanced to look at him again, there was another she-dwarf with him. Her face mirrored the other dwarf's, for it was beaten and sad. She looked very young, but tired. The small she-dwarf did not look afraid; she looked like she had resigned herself to death.

"Argetlam," said the older dwarf, "if you will heal my wife as you healed me, I shall repay you with information as valuable as the life of Galbatorix himself. I assure you, it is information worth hearing."

Eragon hesitated. He was extremely weak, and did not know how much more magic he could do without overextending his limits. The dwarf's wounds had been deep, and the she-dwarf looked even worse. Taking a deep breath, Eragon prayed that this information would be worth his energy.

"Waise heill!" he shouted once more. Suddenly everything went out of focus. He staggered and fell. A small shape- it must be the dwarf, though he could barely see it, came up to him. He felt the strangest sensation, as if a piece of his head was gone and a new piece replaced it. Then the world went black.

When Eragon awoke, he was resting against Saphira's side, warm from the fire in her belly. Gently, she said, _Are you okay, little one?_

_I think… I think I'm all right._ Eragon replied.

A worried, scolding tone crept into Saphira's voice. _You almost died. How could you be so careless?_

Eragon sighed, and said aloud, "They told me they would give me the information I have been seeking. I believed them."

Saphira's eyes were sad. _Look there, young one._ Saphira nodded towards the place Eragon had fallen.

Eragon looked. Lying side by side were the dwarves. They looked like they could be sleeping peacefully, except for the arrows protruding from each of their chests. Eragon's stomach dropped. "I guess I'm not the only one who was hunting them," he whispered. Gently he wiped away the blood and stared at the dead couple.

As he was doing so, he felt Saphira's mind probe his consciousness, and recoil in surprise. _What is it? _He asked carefully.

_The dwarves did inform you. _Saphira looked thoughtfully at him with her bright sapphire eyes. _Search your memories, and you will understand._

Eragon hesitated, and then he fell into deep thought. As he was thinking, he came across new memories that he didn't even know he had. It was a strange feeling. He saw dark, dangerous places, uniformed soldiers, and a dark man who he knew must be Galbatorix. "The dwarf gave me his memories." Eragon said aloud. As he was thinking, an image of something round, green, and incredibly important flashed across his mind.

Jumping up, he said a quick blessing over the two dwarves and ran to Saphira's side. They needed to move, and quickly. Eragon now knew the secret that could save all of Alagaesia.

_Fly strong, Saphira. _Eragon thought.

Saphira acknowledged, _'Tis true, it is a long way to the Beor Mountains. But… _She trailed off, and a deafening roar filled the mountains, echoing off of the birds and trees that lived there. _I am a great dragon! No great distance shall stop me._

Eragon grinned. Skillfully he strapped the leather saddle onto Saphira's back. For fifteen minutes he blundered around the forest, running around like a rabbit, looking for food of any kind. He picked up green leaves, juicy berries, ripe fruits, and fresh vegetables. There was no meat in the food that he packed- Saphira could hunt well enough on her own.

When he was ready, he climbed into Saphira's well worn saddle. His heart leaped with the joy of Saphira's companionship, but soon sunk when he remembered the secret the dwarves had entrusted to him. Could he keep it? Eragon knew he could sometimes be less than trustworthy.

Saphira's takeoff interrupted his negative thoughts. He admired her skill and strength as she maneuvered out of the Spine. Her mind probed his consciousness, sending him images to strengthen his resolve and give him courage. He couldn't ask for a better friend in the world.

Over the course of an hour, Saphira flew over large towns, desert lands, great rivers, and small mountains. As the scenery flew by, Eragon's mind turned inadvertently to Arya. He hadn't heard from her since the great battle with the Varden. Was she okay? What was she doing? His magic itched to scry her, to check on her. But that felt rude. Arya was another friend that he couldn't live without.

As Eragon was wrestling with the fact that he did not know how Arya, his other best friend was, the sun was setting in the west. He sensed Saphira's wings grow heavy, and her once effortless flying became difficult.

Gently Eragon whispered, "Let us rest now. You have done a great deal of magnificent flying today."

For a moment he felt Saphira's resistance, but not for long. Sheer exhaustion gave way to stubbornness, and Saphira alighted near a small river. She immediately commenced polishing her scales, one by one. A rather vain creature, Saphira took pride in her shining sapphire armor. As she cleaned herself, Eragon stared into the distance, thinking of the information that the dwarves had given him. Was it enough? Could he do what must be done? He didn't know, but it was worth the risk if the dwarves' information was correct.

After too many moments of agitated thinking, Eragon retired to bed. Saphira's wings kept him warm throughout the night, and he was comforted to know that there were certain people- or dragons- who would always be there for him, even through hard circumstances. Her comforting presence helped him to forget about his mission for a little while.

They rose before the sun. A quick breakfast of berries and cold stream water refreshed Eragon's spirits, and he and Saphira were very soon ready to leave. Excitement coursed through their veins, for they both knew what was ahead. Mountains, much taller than the highest peaks of the Spine, loomed ahead of them, ready to swallow a sapphire dragon whole. Their prize, the future of Alagaesia, lay inside one of the mountains.

Eragon and Saphira planned to sneak in alone, slipping past guards and traps to get to the prize. Neither had any idea how well protected it was, and the thought made Eragon nervous. Even so, he looked forward to the end of his lengthy assignment.

Wind whipped past Eragon's face, and his breath was, as usual, snatched from his lungs by the exhilaration of their takeoff. Flying with Saphira was unlike any other experience in the world. Momentarily, he felt bad for all others who did not have the opportunity of embracing the skies on the back of a powerful dragon. Humans, who said dragons were a thing of the past. Dwarves, who refused to leave their beloved earth and take to the skies. Elves that Saphira had not chosen.

_I chose you for a reason, little one. _Saphira's probing voice interrupted Eragon's thoughts.

_What reason? I'm not ready for this._

Saphira chuckled, a deep, throaty laugh. _Your insecurities keep you from who you could be._

Eragon protested, and Saphira, still laughing, slipped out of his mind. Even after, he couldn't stop thinking about what she had said. It was true- he had never been ready for any of this. Becoming a Rider had not been his choice, but Saphira had chosen him. He was sometimes apprehensive about his growing ability, but thinking of what he had once been gave him heart. He was much different than the young farm boy of his past life. Over the years he had become stronger, calmer, and wiser… though perhaps not yet wise.

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, Saphira's voice was in his mind. _Eragon! The enemy is upon us!_

Those simple words sent adrenaline coursing through Eragon's veins. Deftly drawing his bow, Eragon searched the skies for any sign of a potential enemy. He saw nothing but empty air. Out of nowhere, pain zapped his arm, and he whipped around to see an arrow lodged in his flesh. He screamed a curse and wrenched the arrow out before it could do more damage.

"Saphira, where are they?" Eragon shouted into the wind.

Saphira's voice was surprisingly calm. _They surround us. Remember Oromis' teachings. If you do not, we will surely die._

Eragon cursed again. Of course! He reached out with his mind and found the consciousness of three of Galbatorix's finest soldiers. Somehow they were following Eragon and Saphira as the two flew! Eragon delved further, and found that the sting of magic accompanied their minds. He soon realized that they were under a spell that allowed them to fly… and be invisible to mortal eyes.

Ignoring the growing pain in his arm and his growing dizziness, Eragon shot three arrows where he judged the enemy to be. Two missed, but one hit its mark, and the unseen enemy fell. Neither of the living soldiers shot back, but their stubborn intellect remained, steadily following him and Saphira as they raced through the mountains.

Out of nowhere, a deep voice echoed through the mountains over which they were flying. It growled, "Put away your weapon. If you do not- you, the dragon, and the elven princess will all die."

Startled, Eragon slowly put away his bow and dropped his arrows into the depths of the wild peaks. Saphira stopped racing over the mountains. She flapped her wings to remain suspended in midair, and they prepared for the worst.

_They're talking about Arya. I have to rescue her!_

Saphira's voice carried a hint of irony and a lot of sarcasm. _So much for arriving unannounced._

Eragon laid a hand on Saphira's scaly neck to steady himself. His world was spinning. Taking a deep breath, Eragon shouted to the mountains, "What do you want from us?"

The answer came back in the same growling tone, short and simple.

"We want your lives."

Hours later, Eragon woke up in a dark cell. Before he reached out with his mind, he knew he was completely alone. Panicking, he tried to contact Saphira, but failed. Was she alive? What would they do to her? Did she think he was dead? Would he ever see her again? Would he die here, alone?

Eragon slumped down in a dirty corner of the cell. He had never felt so forlorn and isolated in all of his life. He was cold, weak, and he had no company at all. If he could see through the darkness of the cell, he was sure his world was still spinning.

Squinting, Eragon looked at his arm. He could barely make out its shape in the gloom. The cloth of his shirt was bloody where the arrow had pierced him, and it stung, but he was grateful it was the worst of the hurt.

Later in the day, a soldier pushed a plateful of food through a small flap in the door. If the flap in the door was small, the meal was even smaller, but still Eragon looked longingly at the meager meal. He had only eaten fruits and berries for breakfast, and it had been hours since then. Suspiciously, he peered at the cup of water. Over time, his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. He could distinguish objects plainly. At first glance, it looked clear and pure, but looking closer, Eragon perceived a yellow liquid mixed with the water. Drugged. The food and water were both drugged.

Clenching his fists, Eragon resolved to refrain from eating or drinking. It was a terribly difficult decision, but he knew from previous experience what the enemy's prison drugs could do to the mind.

Eventually, from sheer exhaustion, he fell deeply asleep.

_She ran through the halls, her long hair flying out behind her. In her pack was the secret of Alagaesia. She ran like a beautiful, hunted stag. Through corridor after corridor she flew, until she came to the door of a dark room. Stopping, she heard voices._

"_Messenger has not come back. Search the building. Check the room."_

"_Does she have…"_

"_Silence! Nobody must hear that she has the egg…"_

_The elf woman ran, faster than she had run before. She looked pained, and she carried a satchel that she clutched as if it were her life. It was her life. It was the last dragon egg in all of Alagaesia._

Eragon jerked awake. It was true! They had Arya prisoner, but if his dream was accurate, she had escaped. Eragon rejoiced. He had been worried about her, for he knew her past experience in prison still haunted her. Then she had visited him in his dreams, calling for help. Eragon had followed his visions, saving her life.

Did she know he was held prisoner here, as well? Eragon didn't want to be rescued, but he had long since given up on finding a way out on his own. He was too weak without food and water. He had no magic at all. Could he still be drugged? Before he could finish his train of thought, Eragon found himself falling asleep once more.

"Eragon! Arise! We do not have time."

Eragon jumped up and tried to sift through his groggy thoughts. He had heard that voice before, but he couldn't think where.

"Blast it, Shadeslayer, get up!" The door opened and dim light flooded in. An irritated elven princess stared down at him in distaste. She ran over, yanked him to his feet, and without even a greeting, pulled him out the unbarred prison door.

Seeing Arya had jogged Eragon's memory. Now he knew who he was and where he was, but he had no idea where he was heading. Carefully he sorted through his thoughts as he sprinted with his companion down the passage. She had saved him. He knew that much. Why had he not been able to resist the drugs and spells? Arya was doing fine, although she looked more pained than usual. Why did they affect his ability to think so much?

"Your arm," Arya said, as if she had read Eragon's mind. "They shot you, and the arrow had a poison that slows down your brain and nervous system. That is why they shot you only once and did not continue the attack."

Eragon breathed a breath of relief. He wasn't as weak as he had thought. Gathering his still-scattered thoughts once more, he asked, "Where are we?" They were sprinting with superhuman speed through rough, dark, stone passageways, lighted only with the occasional torch.

Arya's eyes glowed with unrestrained fire. "We are in the tunnels of Galbatorix's secret lair. The Galbatorix that lives in the great city… is a fake!"

"A fake? What do you mean?"

"The 'Galbatorix' that we know is the son of the great rider. He does not have a dragon, but rather uses the fear of the people to spread rumors about himself. His father, the true Galbatorix, is sending soldiers after us this very moment!"

"How did you escape?"

She was silent for a moment, and then said, "I have learned a great many things since I was taken prisoner. They underestimated me, and did not guard my cell well enough. I overpowered them, stole their greatest treasure, and ran."

"What about Saphira? Do you know where she is held?"

Arya whipped around, stopped running, and trained a piercing gaze upon him. She spoke slowly. "You… do not know… the whereabouts of your own dragon?" A wide range of emotions played across her face. She looked furious, but also terrified.

Her fear infected Eragon. He stuttered. "I have not been able to contact her. She is either out of my reach, or…" Eragon refused to consider the alternative.

Arya's gaze softened as she looked on Eragon's worried face. "Do not worry. I know the way out. They would not have killed the last female of her kind. We shall leave this place, gather reinforcements, and rescue Saphira before they may do her any harm. Come with me."

Arya took Eragon's hand and turned to the right, into a hidden tunnel. The dark passageway was so small, Eragon would have missed it if Arya had not shown him. It was cramped and felt like it was made for dwarves, instead of elves or humans.

As they were hunched over, crawling through the tunnel, Arya's keen ears picked up the sounds of pursuit echoing behind them. Soon Eragon sensed the presence of a hundred angry soldiers. Arya said nothing, only walked faster and with even more urgency.

After what seemed like miles, the two came to the end of the cramped tunnel, finding only a flimsy rope ladder. It looked only strong enough to hold one person at a time. The echo of marching soldiers came closer.

Arya handed Eragon the precious satchel. "Take the egg and go!" Her face was wild, and again she looked like a hunted stag. She pushed him toward the ladder.

Finally, Eragon's mind was clear. He knew exactly what must be done. Without any more thought, he threw the egg towards the ladder, and Arya ran to catch it. She caught it, gazed at him for a moment, and then started climbing up towards her freedom.

Soon she was out of sight and Eragon was alone in the dark tunnel. The soldiers came closer. Eragon examined the delicate ladder, wondering if it was strong enough to hold his weight. Soon he didn't have any time left to wonder. The sound of marching warriors was growing close. They knew where he was, and would not let them escape. The only way to life was up, so he grabbed onto the ladder and began to climb faster than he had ever climbed before. Looking over his shoulder, he thought he discerned the red coats of Galbatorix's army. He climbed faster.

Eragon was almost out of sight when without warning, an arrow shot into his side. An involuntary scream parted his lips. Blood gushed from his body and sweat poured down his face. Even the slightest movement caused him excruciating pain. More arrows flew past, but none met their mark. He couldn't let Arya and Saphira down, so he tried... he kept climbing. Light shone down from the freedom of the surface, but he knew he couldn't reach it any longer. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't breathe. Suddenly, he knew he was going to die.

The soldiers stopped shooting. They knew he was going to die, too.

His focus lessened. He was not a dragon rider. He was dead.

Nobody dead can save the world.

He could see Brom again. Rejoin him in death.

Eragon almost smiled. And then he gave up on life and living.

Above him, Saphira roared a great and terrible roar. The soldiers fled in terror. Eragon thought he felt strong hands pull him out of the darkness and into a beautiful hillside. Could death be beautiful?

"Stay with us, Eragon," a soft voice chanted, "stay with us."

He was not dead. He was in pain- agonizing, unbearable pain. Was it worth living? Eragon opened his eyes to see Arya cleaning his wound, and Saphira watching with concern. She had not been captured. Yes, it was worth the pain to be alive.

"Waise heill!" Arya whispered. Magic flowed into Eragon's wound, stitching skin and muscles together, making him whole. He had not died.

Testing his lungs, Eragon took a deep breath of fresh mountain air. Marvelously, they still worked. He looked up at Arya, who looked more joyful than he had ever seen her. He couldn't figure out why, until something curiously nudged Eragon's cheek. Slowly, he turned his head to see a small, beautiful green creature peering at him. Was he hallucinating? It looked like…

"A dragon." Delight shone on Arya's face. She sat on her knees and stared at the new marvel. "He hatched for me. His name is Edoc'sil. I am a rider." She smiled down at Eragon through a haze of joyful tears. "We are riders."


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you propose we do next?" Eragon gazed at Arya as she paced the mossy ground. Her long raven black hair shimmered in the morning light.

After many moments had passed, Arya looked up. Something almost like a smile crossed her face when she saw Edoc'sil curiously sniffing a nearby tree. She sighed, and it was impossible for Eragon to know if it was a sigh of joy or sorrow.

Arya lifted her hand and gazed at the new gedwey ignasia on her palm. It shimmered in the sun, and a deep wave of emotion crossed Arya's face. Eragon wished to say something, but there was nothing that he could utter to help Arya through her journey as a dragon rider. He remained silent, watching Arya's every movement. Slowly she lifted her hand to her face and touched the gedwey ignasia to her cheek. Softly she whispered, "It is true, Faolin. It is true."

A wave of resentment swept over Eragon as he recognized the name of Arya's deceased guardian and lover. He wondered what Faolin had said about the return of the riders that had made Arya even more pensive and mysterious than usual.

Saphira's voice broke through Eragon's thoughts.

_You know, it's no use being jealous of a dead man._

_I'm not jealous! _Eragon looked defiantly into Saphira's large blue eyes.

Saphira's tail twitched. _Lying to yourself will only lead to more trouble._

With that note, Saphira withdrew from their contact, leaving Eragon to battle with his own feelings.

Arya spoke to Eragon for the first time as she stroked the small green dragon on her shoulder. "We must take Edoc'sil to the Varden and tell them of the discoveries that we have made." Her eyes flashed. "The knowledge of Galbatorix's son may mean the difference between life and certain death for the people of the Varden."

Puzzled, Eragon ran his hand through his matted hair and replied, "I do not understand what you mean when you speak of Galbatorix's son. How did this come about, and what does it mean for the people of the Varden?"

Arya strode over to where Eragon was sitting, and Edoc'sil scurried after her. She sat across from Eragon, holding herself with great poise.

"The talk of the soldiers is that Galbatorix, as unloving as he might be now, once had an…" Arya hesitated as she searched for a word, "…had an affair with a beautiful foreign princess, who bore him a son. She committed suicide when she watched her love turn evil. Many years passed, and Galbatorix's son grew to be a competent young man, who found that his resemblance to Galbatorix leant him great power. While his father was locked up in his dark rooms, practicing dark magic and obsessively manipulating the ancient language, Galbatorix's son ran the affairs of the castle, pretending to be his father."

Eragon nodded, amazed that this had escaped the notice of the people of Alagaesia. "Galbatorix has become consumed with his magic and forgets to maintain his kingdom. It makes sense."

"Indeed." Arya touched Eragon's hand slightly, and he looked up, attempting to ignore the fire in his veins. She continued, "You must be careful, for now we have not one, but three forces to obliterate. Galbatorix, Murtagh, and Galbatorix's son must all be destroyed before there is peace once again."

Eragon said nothing. He regretted that the only way to bring peace was to go to war, but he knew Arya would scorn him for his unwillingness to fight.

"What are you thinking, Shadeslayer?" Arya looked genuinely curious.

Eragon decided not to share his thoughts with her. "I was… I was wondering if I should ask you what happened while you were captured," he lied.

A shadow crossed Arya's face. "A curse on Galbatorix and all of his men for the evil that they have done to this land! They have turned this beautiful mountain," she gestured to the fantastic scenery around her, "into a land of horrors!"

"I wonder why Galbatorix would hide in the very same mountain range as the Varden…"

Arya looked at the ground in distaste, not hearing a word Eragon said. Without warning, she began to speak softly. "It was truly akin to my experience with the shade. I felt swallowed, and knew that I couldn't be rescued. They told me that they would torture me until I swore loyalty to them in the Ancient Language. I heard the sounds of people, dwarves and elves being tortured in the cells around me, and I knew that it would soon be my turn."

Edoc'sil tramped over and curled up in her lap, obviously feeling her distress through their link. She did not speak another word, but Eragon could plainly see that she was struggling to keep her feelings in check. He ached to reach out and comfort her in some way, but he hardly knew how. Her experience with the shade's torture had been so traumatic. Instead Eragon watched helplessly as Edoc'sil soaked in her pain and gave her the comfort that only a dragon partner could.

When at last Arya had control over her emotions, she stood up, brushing the dust off of her tunic. "Now we must leave this mountain, and quickly, before Galbatorix changes his mind about letting us go and decides to kill us off right now. We must alert the Varden of all that has happened, so that we may kill Galbatorix's son and rescue…"

She did not finish her sentence, but reached out her hand to Eragon, who took it with a reverence unlike any other. Slowly he stood up and dropped her hand, restraining himself from picking it back up again.

Once he had gotten over the shock his hand had received, he realized that Arya had not finished her sentence. "Rescue whom?" he asked.

Arya's face filled with hatred. "Galbatorix has taken your brother dwarf prisoner. He is held in the deepest dungeon."

Shock coursed through Eragon, and he instinctively reached to his side for his sword, when he remembered that it was still in the armory of the mountain. "Galbatorix has _Orik_?" Eragon shouted.

Arya only nodded solemnly.

"Well, we must rescue him! Let us go now!"

"Eragon, stop and think," Arya chided. "I have Edoc'sil, who can certainly not go rushing off to war until he has grown. You have no weapon and no strategy. Galbatorix _himself_ is hidden in the recesses of that mountain."

Eragon took a step back from Arya. "Then Saphira and I shall go alone. You may go to the Varden, and we will catch up with you once I have freed Orik and the other prisoners."

Arya's anger flared and her eyes flashed as she spoke, each word like a dagger into Eragon's chest. She began to yell. "Stop to think, _Argetlam_! The entire war depends on you. If you get yourself killed, the happiness and safety of everyone in Alagaesia is completely gone. You cannot let your _heart_ get in the way of what you must do for your country!"

Eragon did not yell back, but only spoke with soft, stubborn certainty. "I will not go with you."

Saphira let her voice ring through the minds of Eragon, Arya and Edoc'sil as she spoke. She looked at Eragon. _Little one, please forget what I said about lying to yourself. You'll only get into trouble anyway._

Arya looked confused, but said nothing. Edoc'sil chewed on his tail, oblivious to what was happening around him.

Eragon stood firm. "Saphira, I have to do this. What makes us the 'good guys'? If we only kill to win a war, how are we any better than Galbatorix himself? Every life matters and I love my brother Orik. I shall do my best to help him."

Arya's eyes narrowed. "So be it. Saphira and I shall fly north with Edoc'sil. I hope and pray that you live through this, for the Varden's sake."

She mounted Saphira, who looked at Eragon with sad eyes. _I know that you feel the need to prove yourself, young one. But please, stay safe._

_I will. I promise you. _Eragon replied, repeating himself in the Ancient language.

Arya looked down at Eragon and said formally, "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Eragon Shur'tugal."

Sadly, Eragon replied, "Atra du evarinya ono varda, drottningu."

Without another word, Saphira, Arya, and Edoc'sil took off. Eragon watched them until they had flown far from his view.

Hours later, he sat, silent as a stone. The peace of the world around him contrasted darkly with the turmoil in his mind. Eragon was not at peace with himself, and meditation did little to relieve his doubts and fears.

Sighing, he stood. There was only one who could share his innermost feelings. He breathed the fresh mountain air, wishing he were not apart from Saphira. Saphira was an extension of his being, and being apart from her made him ache inside.

Eragon paced the grassy ground, wishing with all of his heart that he could be journeying back to Roran, his only family, accompanied by Arya, his only love. Instead, he was on a self-appointed mission to recover his brother dwarf from Galbatorix's iron clutches.

Eragon ran. During his meditations, he had brushed his consciousness against thousands of creatures, who all sang fearfully of the evil king residing in their peaceful forest. By speaking with the plants and animals, Eragon could glean information about the mountain and about Galbatorix. He rushed because he had been told of a secret entrance to the cave that was rarely guarded. If he arrived quickly enough, he might be able to slip in unnoticed while the guard was changing.

Arriving at the place the creatures had described, Eragon slowed his footsteps to a silent, brisk walk. Cautiously, he pushed back the large vines that hid the entrance to the cave. Swearing under his breath, he quickly replaced them. There were two soldiers on guard. Eragon cursed himself for not reaching out with his consciousness before going into the cave.

A deep, slurred voice sounded from within the mountain. "Tack, I'm thinkin' I saw somethin' move out there. Ya think we should go check it out?"

A high voice replied, which must have been the man called Tack. "Are you kidding me? There's nothing out there. By the gods, we don't get _anything_ out here except these wretched animals," he spat on the ground to show his distaste for nature in general.

"But I'm sure I saw something!" Gus whined.

"Oh, shut up! You're so drunk you can't tell left from right."

"Yeah, well you can't tell left from right on a normal day," Gus muttered under his breath.

It was clear that Tack did not hear, for he did not reply. Eragon knew that he could not tarry any longer, listening to the conversation of a couple of drunkards. As quietly as possible, he crept up to the entrance of the mountain, whispering a spell that would put the two intoxicated guards into a deep sleep. When he was satisfied they were asleep, he brushed aside the twisting vines and entered the cave, attempting to ignore the pungent odor of alcohol that hung over the red-coated soldiers.

Wincing, Eragon looked at the two guards. He knew that the Varden would not approve of his actions. They viewed all enemies the same, whether they were Urgal or human, they were all to be destroyed.

Somehow, Eragon thought as he walked the deserted corridors, he could not blindly kill. When Garrow had died, something had changed inside Eragon. He could not murder for the sake of murder. He murdered on the battlefield for self defense only. Arya, Nasuada, and everyone else in the Varden thought his moral values were extreme, but there was nothing he could do about that. He continued doing what he knew was right.

Eragon walked for hours, swallowed by a darkness so penetrating it felt like the center of the earth. Each carved stone corridor seemed endless, and every corner Eragon turned, he thought he would run into one of Galbatorix's soldiers. Stretching his consciousness, he encountered only loneliness. In a normal mountain cave, he knew he would feel the presence of roaches, worms, or mold.

Here, all was eerie silence.

Reaching out his mind for the hundredth time, Eragon felt the consciousness of hundreds of soldiers. Startled, he realized that it was the first time that he had felt a single living creature in the mountain. Hiding himself in the shadows of the corridor, he decided to wait for the red-coated soldiers to pass. He used a simple spell to make himself invisible to mortal eyes.

The men walked in straight, formal lines, very unlike the two soldiers that Eragon had encountered at the entrance. Once they had all passed, Eragon came to the realization that he was not alone. He was literally walking towards his enemy, with no protection of any kind or any weapon to defend himself.

"Brisingr," Eragon whispered as he thought of his sword. A spark flew between his fingers, and he felt the strangest sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, except when he had first beheld his blue sword.

He felt drawn. Suddenly, inexplicably, Eragon knew where his sword was held. He felt, rather than knew, that the armory was located one floor above where he was hidden. It was unavoidable- he would have to follow the soldiers to retrieve his lost sword.

Eragon began to sprint. The feeling in the pit of his stomach grew stronger as he ran closer to his sword, Brisingr. He did not know why he knew where it was, but he did not care. His only thought was to reach his sword. If he had his blade when he rescued Orik, everything would be much easier. Reaching the entrance to the armory, Eragon found it unlocked and unguarded.

Surprised, Eragon cautiously touched the minds of all of the beings around him. He encountered hundreds of soldiers still walking away from him, none of which posed an immediate threat. Some of their minds were guarded, but none knew he was standing at the armory, seeking entrance.

Eragon touched the doorknob, and nothing attacked.

"Something just isn't right here," he whispered to himself.

Suddenly, he felt someone grab him from behind. Whoever had caught him was incredibly strong. Eragon began to panic. His heart beat wildly as he struggled vainly to free himself.

"You're right," said a voice from behind. The accent reminded Eragon of crawling insects. "Something definitely isn't right."

Helpless, Eragon felt a spell wash over him that rendered him incapable of movement. The pressure on his arms released and he fell to the floor. Pain shocked Eragon's senses, but he could not move.

A shining black boot turned him over, and Eragon found himself looking into the glowing eyes of a Shade.


End file.
